Walk of Shame
by xTornAsunderx
Summary: A mini fic. Detailing exactly what the title says.


A/n: This little project was due to a prompt over on LJ.

Prompt: _Yeah, you've been there: holding your handbag in one hand and your 6-inch heels in the other as you either sprint or saunter down the street (depending on your personality), wearing your rumpled, fancy little dress that's obviously from last night, make-up smeared, reeking of sex. I want Kirk doing a walk of shame. Heels and handbag and all. Bonus: He meets Gaila, also doing a Walk of Shame, along the First-Born: He's going straight to another booty call (anon will take anyone except McCoy, but would prefer Spock, Gaila, or Sulu). _

James T. Kirk was one Hell of a guy. The kind that women wanted to be with, and the men wanted to be like. He was not the kind of man you would expect to find walking down the street a 7am, wearing nothing but a gold sequined dress and fishnet stockings, while holding a pair of high heels and whistling to himself.

" It's a beautiful out…" Jim muttered to himself as he sidestepped another crack in the old sidewalk.

Yet there he was.

Apparently, the week long shore leave on Earth had brought out the weirdness in the whole crew.

Ambling down 8th street, with a skip in his step, Jim was performing a walk of shame. Only, it wasn't really a walk so much as a saunter, and there was absolutely no shame involved. Jim never did anything he would regret the next day, and why would someone be ashamed to have just gotten laid last night? Ok, so the cross dressing thing was new and strange for him, but not entirely uncomfortable, except for the heels.

The captain made another turn, to walk past the park that would lead him straight back to his ship. He smirked to himself as he heard a loud wolf-whistle from behind, and turned to blow his admirer a playful kiss, only to come face to face with none other than Gaila. The Orion woman smiled wide at his surprised look, saluted smartly, and gave a chipper, "Good morning, Captain." As he smiled back, Jim gave Gaila a single once over glance, taking in her appearance. Her curly red hair had been pulled back into a tight bun the night before, but now dozens of loose strands hung down and stuck out at odd angles. The peach colored dress she wore had stood our against her green skin and made her look like some kind of exotic, willowy flower, but now was rumpled and stained slightly at the hem. Her matching heels and purse were both clutched in her left hand.

In Jim's personal opinion, she was just as beautiful now, as when she had left the Enterprise the night before.

He saluted her back, gave her an equally perky hello, and offered his arm since they were both headed in the same direction. As she slipped her arm through his, he dropped the air of professionalism and asked, "What brings you out so early, beautiful?"

"Same as you, I suppose, Captain." She giggled, "Unless, you're trying on a new outfit for your morning jog?" She pointed at his heels and said, "If that's the case, I wouldn't recommend stilettos. Running in them takes lots of practice."

Jim held up the shiny yellow heels he had chosen to match his dress, pretending to examine them. "To Hell with running in them," he said, "I still need to practice walking in them." The blonde man dropped the offending shoes back to his side. "The dress, on the other hand, I can deal with. It's nice and breezy."

The Orion woman had fit of giggles that died away a second after her personal communicator began to beep, alerting her to a received text message. Gaila took a short moment to open her purse, find her comm., and read the message before turning her brilliant smile back to her captain. "It seems our sweet, little, Chekov is not so innocent. Apparently, he doesn't know how to get back to the ship from where he is, and he also can't find his pants. He's requesting that I bring him a pair."

Jim snorted in disbelief, and reached with his free hand to pull her communicator closer, inspecting the message for himself. Sure enough, the text simply read: "Hung-over. Tired. Vaguely sticky. No Pants. Very lost. Please help!", and there was Chekov's avatar at the bottom.

Jim took a moment to digest this information, and then promptly dissolved into laughter. "Ha. Didn't know that the kid had it in him to be that wild." He paused and gave a snort of amusement, "Alright, how about we go find our navigator some pants. Then we find the inavigator/i. And then we can all exchange stories over breakfast, because I really need to know what happened to the kid last night. This is too good not to be explained."

The communicator chimed again.

This time the message was comprised of a street name, and several landmarks that could be seen from Chekov's position. Jim smiled in anticipation of hearing the story behind his navigator's current state. Then, using the arm still around Gaila's shoulders, he gently steered her in the direction he believed Chekov was stranded.

James T. Kirk whistled and swung his high heels as he ambled down the street with Gaila under one arm. It was going to be a long, and strange day, if the current situation was any warning.


End file.
